


put some rose quartz underneath your pillow, dear.

by allwedidwaskiss



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Lots of Minor Character Death, M/M, RET (Resolved Emotional Tension), UST, actually idk if the ending is really what you would call happy, basically a feelings dump after i heard that buckynat was gonna be a thing in cap3, buckynat is NOT the endgame here, i know that buckynat is the first relationship, i spent 6 solid hours writing this tiny mess so here just take it off my hands, i tried to not be a shit to anyone but i feel how i feel, just like, like basically everyone, no sex here guiz sorry, no worries though if that's not your cuppa, nothing graphic, the teen and up is because i cursed a wee bit, they're dead now, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwedidwaskiss/pseuds/allwedidwaskiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wanders a bit and does some stuff he should do and finds companionship in dogs while things carry on as they were everywhere else.</p><p>A man who lives forever always gets more than one chance at everything; he just has to be patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put some rose quartz underneath your pillow, dear.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A POP-UP SHOW FIC.
> 
> i read a spoiler, i got emotional, i got into the wine, this happened. please be gentle, first foray into the Marvel fandom. This is pure wish fulfillment unbeta'd garbage trashbby trash like me.
> 
> **Please be warned, this fic is tagged both stevebucky and buckynat. it is because both of these are present in the fic. neither are discussed in graphic detail. regardless, buckynat is NOT THE ENDGAME PAIRING.**
> 
> Title inspiration from Rose Quartz by Toro y Moi (which i listened to a repeat. srsly check them out, they are boss af).

“I’m not Bucky.”

Those are the first words that James Barnes speaks to Steve, after the Helicarrier and the warehouse and the Russian bunker.

Sam and Steve, with occasional help from Fury, Nat and Clint, tracked the Winter Soldier tirelessly for months. 

He was fond of wild geese chases, even as he eradicated what seemed like every Hydra base from D.C. to Timbuktu.

“I’m never gonna be him.”  James won’t look at him and Steve isn't sure of what he’s being told right now.

They had finally stumbled across the aforementioned bunker almost by sheer luck.  The Winter Soldier had been sitting serenely in the lobby, surrounded by dead Hydra agents.

He barely looked up from picking his nails with a large, black matte knife when they walked in.

His surrender was way more anticlimactic than any of them had anticipated, “About time you caught up.” said in a flat, bored tone with his eyes still on his nails.

Steve boggles at James: “Of course you’re  _you_ , Buck. I thought you were dead, I just found you again.” 

James’ mouth curls into a slight sneer. The expression is so dissimilar to anything Steve’s ever seen on Bucky’s face that he recoils before he even knows he’s done it.  “See?” The brunet raises a single, unfamiliar eyebrow in emphasis.

Steve wants to argue but James-not-Bucky has already stood up, and no words come when he opens his mouth.

The sneer becomes more pronounced.

Steve’s blood runs cold.

“Look, I know that… before… This body belonged to your buddy. I came to tell you that he’s gone." 

Steve nods dumbly but isn’t sure what James-not-Bucky expects him to add to the conversation.

He’s sure with time Bucky will come back to him, as James remembers more.

He wants to talk to him, stay in touch: “We can still be friends? Or become that… become friends? You and me?”

James’ face doesn’t move.  “Sure.” 

Nobody is convinced. 

“You seem like a good guy, Steve. Nice. I wish I could help you, pal, but I can barely help myself.” 

Steve should have watched him leave.

Steve stares at the ground instead.

-       - -

Steve tries to honor James’ wishes.

He doesn’t drop by the Tower as much anymore. Only five days a week now. 

It’s still too much.

-       - - 

Sam’s lectures never feel like it when they’re beginning. It’s only during, when everything he says suddenly becomes clear, that you realize you’ve been acting like a real jackass.

“Right now, Steve, really the most important thing is that James feels as safe and comfortable as possible. He says,” Sam just might be the nicest person Steve has met since he left the ice but there is nothing that he can do to take the sting out of the next words, “I’m sorry, man, but he says he needs space –”

“I have been! Sam, please. I’ve cut down my trips –” 

Sam holds up his hand.  His face and eyes have gone hard, something that means he is dead serious, and the wind instantly leaves Steve’s sails. His shoulders droop and his stomach is sitting like a stone somewhere in his shoes. 

 “No one wants to tell you this, Steve, but it’s gotta get done, so – James needs you to not come around for a while. I mean, I get where he’s coming from, dude. You’re expecting him to be someone he doesn’t  _remember_   _being_ , Steve. He doesn’t remember last year, for Christ’s sake. Just give him some time to get his bearings, ok?”

Steve nods past the urge to vomit.

Sam asks if he wants to go for coffee. 

There are worse places to be right now.

-       - -

He can deal with this. 

He’s fine.

Soon Bucky will be better, able to handle having Steve around and he’ll have his friend back.

-       - - 

Steve reads a lot. 

He buys a lot of motorcycle jackets so that the doorbell will ring when they get delivered.  He takes hours long, winding bike rides through and out of the city.

He Avenges pretty regularly – they brief him over the phone and provide transit from his apartment whenever needed because James-not-Bucky is still staying in the tower. 

He finally makes it to the end of his recommended movies list and so far he’s not impressed with this generation’s cinematic escapades though he thought Bridesmaids was hysterical. 

He puts aside dozens of things to show James once he’s allowed to see him again.  

Tony snarks about the amount of rom-coms in his collection and Steve laughs out loud for the first time in weeks.

Cliff comes over roughly every two weeks with beer, a pizza and sometimes a bleeding wound that needs tending.

Sam’s visits are sporadic and more than anything just an excuse to get Steve out of doors. 

He doesn’t see Natasha. 

 _Soon_.

 -       - -

There’s a party at the Tower on Friday and Steve is allowed to come. 

Sam said James was fine with it and Steve is alight with anticipation. 

He buys a bottle of James’ favorite whiskey. Well, it was Bucky’s favorite but Steve is pretty sure that Hydra didn’t mess with his taste buds so he hopes he likes it.

He spends forty minutes picking out an outfit.

His phone buzzes with a text marked  _Urgent_  from Sam.  He ignores it for now; his hair is being disobedient again.

-       - - 

As soon as he walks in, Sam is there to meet him in the lobby.  They board the elevator together.

“How’ve you been, Sam? It’s been a while.” He smiles to greet Sam as the elevator doors slide closed. 

Sam’s grin is as friendly and warm as it was last month. “You know, on my hustle.”  They share a chuckle. 

“You look nice,” Sam teases and Steve grins wider.

“I wanted to look good,” he self-consciously straightens his shirt.  “I haven’t seen James in almost a year." 

Steve beams at his friend and doesn’t understand why Sam is frowning back at him now.

“Shit, Steve. There’s something I gotta tell you.”

“It can wait, Sam. I already spoke to Fury about the specs for the new suits.”

He has made it ten whole months. It was perhaps the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. 

Well, retraining himself to say ‘James’ without hesitation whenever he thinks of or sees Bucky’s face was pretty hard too.

But he’s had a lot of time to practice. 

Sam’s frown is very pronounced now: “Man, listen. It’s about tonight and I don’t want it to throw you –” but before he can mention what’s on his mind, the elevator comes up to their floor. 

The doors open and they are immediately inundated with the familiar raucous noise of Avengers cutting loose.

Steve wiggles his eyebrows at Sam, decides to ignore his frown and deal with what’s bugging his friend later. Right now, he’s only got one thing on his mind.

He steps out of the elevator quickly and looks around. He immediately spots the table near the kitchen to place his bottle. 

Then, several things happen at once.

Tony shouts something loudly and Steve looks up and across the room:

The flash from Clint’s camera goes off.

James reels Natasha in with his metal arm around her waist and plants a passionate kiss on her lips.

Steve’s heart stops for an entire second.

He loses feeling in his extremities.

Steve drops his bottle of whiskey.

Everything tilts sideways for a second and several more things happen at once:

Tony announces: “Rogers is here! And he had an accident!” in an even louder and delighted tone of voice than before.

Natasha shoves James back.

Sam grabs Steve’s arm.

Steve’s mouth is still open.

Sam announces for Steve who no longer as a voice: “We’ll go get something to clean this up with.”

Steve lets Sam steer him out of the room.

-       - -

Nothing makes sense.

He honestly really likes Natasha.

And he loves Bucky, so why –

 Oh.

             _Oh._

 _**Oh**_.

-       - -

 The fresh air and stars on the roof help to calm Steve’s rabbiting heart rate to a degree.

Sam’s counseling degrees aren’t in vain. “It’s important to keep in mind that you can only be aware of feelings you’re, you know… actually aware of.” Sam quirks his lips but Steve still feels like someone else is piloting his body and he himself is somewhere watching from very far away and he can’t make himself smile back.

He thinks now would be a good place to nod though.

“I didn’t know I loved Bucky for a very long time.” Steve hears himself say. 

He doesn’t sound like he did earlier.

He sounds like he’s underwater.

“Steve, you can’t beat yourself up about this. You both grew up in a terrible time to be queer, or black or – ok, not the issue at hand. What I’m saying is, you didn’t understand because you had no frame of reference and James wasn’t exactly feeling buddy-buddy during recovery…” Sam trails off uncertainly and Steve understands through the haze that the awkward pause means  _“except with Natasha.”_

He understands. 

James  _remembers_  Natasha.  She was the one to bring him back to humanity and Steve could only run behind them chasing his favorite ghost out of misplaced, unrequited love.

James probably saw it all over his face, even if Steve didn’t know it was there.

Unbidden, he feels fourteen all over again and remembers the fierce thundering in his chest whenever Bucky would fling an arm around him.  He’d thought it was his arrhythmia.

“How long?” his voice cracks on the last word but he has to know. 

Sam clears his throat tentatively. Steve braces himself for the answer.

“I’m really sorry, Steve. About seven months.”

Steve bites his tongue until he tastes blood to keep the tears at bay.

“You thinkin’ you want to head back in, now?”

Steve hasn’t looked up from his hands clutched in his lap but shakes his head.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night, Sam.”

“Awh, come on, Steve. I’ll go in and tell them to cool it with the kissy-face,” Sam makes his statement a question and Steve flinches. “That’s gonna be a no, then, huh?” 

Steve nods because he can’t speak past the lump in his throat anymore.  His body is thrumming unpleasantly and all he wants it to lie down and not  _think_  right now.

Despite all good intentions, Sam’s sympathetically pained face doesn’t actually cure the perpetual sinking feeling in his stomach. 

There’s a pain behind his ribs with each breath.

“Okay, man. I’ll still see you for a run on Monday though?” Sam’s voice is filled with anxious uncertainty.

Does he think that Steve is going to try to kill himself? If it didn’t work the first time he lost Bucky, why would it work now? 

Steve barks out a harsh laugh that’s not a laugh and makes his exit.

-       - - 

His apartment feels too big, definitely too empty. It’s felt too empty for months but stupidity and blind hope had made it feel less cavernous.

He frequents every Mom and Pop he can find in the phone book. 

Antiquing is not as fun as the Roadshow makes it look. 

He buys a bird he instantly regrets.

He’s not sleeping but thanks to the serum, no one can tell yet.  Even if he could sleep, the damned bird would ensure he didn’t. 

He makes Sam take him laptop browsing.

He receives an angry barrage of texts from Tony about supporting his competitors.  Steve snorts and responds with a shrug emoji Sam had used and then had to explain to him the other day.

He uses his new laptop to look for apartments.

He feels like he’s suffocating in Brooklyn. 

He finally convinces Cliff to take the bird off his hands.

He goes to the animal shelter.

“That one.” The little black and white Scottish terrier pup yips at him excitedly when he approaches the cage. The Humane Society worker looks skeptical. “That one’s a bad’un. Bit two new owners and came right back. She’s goin’ on to the back room tonight, actually.” She scowls at the unassuming little animal.  “Come up front, did ya see that little Corgi? You look like a Corgi fella.” Steve looks at her in alarm, “What’s in the back room?” although he already has a sinking suspicion.

He was right.  He leaves with the terrier.

He names her Becca and feels guilty about it for two days. Her nips never even break his skin. He buys several books on dog training. Pretty women stop him on the street to pet Becca.  There’s a store that sells tiny dog clothes in Manhattan.

A pretty man stopped to compliment him on his motorcycle the other day.

Sam keeps sending him screen caps of random brunet guys’ Grindr pages. “Did you download the app?”  Sam looks sheepish. “As  _me_?” Steve growls and Sam barks a laugh and vacates his seat a fraction of a second before Steve swipes at his phone. “I swear to  _God_ , Wilson.” Another pretty man stops him on the street not two weeks later: “Hey, Cap’nMyCap’n. Remember, you messaged me on Grindr?”

Clubbing is loud, frenetic and probably would have given him some sort of attack before the serum.  He feels gritty with sweat, his and other people’s, and that is enough for him to declare it a miss.  “Not your scene?” Darcy screams at him over the music.  “No, not for me!” he screams back.  She nods sagely and points behind him, “The bathrooms are over there!” to which he laughs and shakes his head.  She shrugs and grabs his hand to drag him to the center of the dance floor. He doesn’t feel self-conscious about dancing, not in this body, but there’s no room and he’s not doing well with so many people packed into such a tight space.  He thinks he sees Bucky’s face across the room and does a double take.  He feels sick as though he drank an entire bottle of vodka, if it could do anything to him. It takes an entire week for the stamp to wash off of his hand.  They don’t go again.

He finds a teashop in Queens.

The government has been paying him backpay for his time on ice and he has millions of dollars for seemingly no reason.

He really needs to get out of the City.

-       - -

Natasha doesn’t show up until the entire apartment’s already boxed up. 

He understands.

If he had been chosen, he’d wait for her to be sure she was leaving too.

“So just like that, huh, Cap?”

He shrugs and takes the kettle off the stove. The soothing smell of chamomile unfurls out of the twin mugs on the counter.

“I don’t know what you were expecting.” He keeps his voice neutral, bordering on friendly 

It’s not Natasha he’s upset with.

There’s no one to blame here.

They drink their tea in quiet. 

Becca comes sniffing around and Natasha’s head whips around at the sound of her tags.

“I didn’t know you got a dog.” He can see she’s striving for neutrality as well.  It wouldn’t do to seem as though she was gloating. 

He shakes his head sharply because that was uncharitable. Another reason to get out of Brooklyn: “Needed the company,” too tersely and he reads the flash of remorseful micro expression on her face. 

“Could have called.” He recognizes her inflection that somehow has no inflection that means she’s feeling him out.

Steve feels guilty.

He just wants Natasha to leave and she’s done nothing wrong.  That’s the whole stupid, annoying point.  He’s  _hurt_  and five months of attempting a bucket list and adopting pets and running so many miles a day he feels like fricking public transportation hasn’t made it stop.  He’s  _hurt_  and he wants to be angry, to point his finger at someone and be able to say, ‘you, it’s your fault’ but there’s no one to do that to in this situation and he’s so tired and he just needs to get away.

He shrugs again and reaches forward to see if she wants a refill. 

She raises her hand to cover her mug.

“He asked about you.”  Steve manages to keep his face calm through the feeling of someone stabbing him viciously in the chest. “Oh?”

She nods and reaches down to pick Becca up and plop her in her lap.  Becca yips happily and Steve’s lips twitch against his will.  “He said you wanted to keep in touch but then you just up and vamoosed. His word, not mine.”

Steve scowls through the disappointment. Honestly, he’s an idiot. Even if James wanted him – but how would he even?  James doesn’t know him from Adam. Steve closes his eyes and wills away the clenching in his chest.  Five months and it still hurts exactly the same.

“Steve?” he jerks and opens his eyes. He honestly had forgotten she was still there for a second.  “Sorry. No, just. No. I won’t have time. Have him email me.”  He stares into space instead of looking at her so he doesn’t have to feel guilty about whatever expression she’s suppressing but still letting him see or whatever her game is today. 

He’s too tired for this, too tired to even remember what else he wanted to get done today.

Somehow she realizes she’s overstayed her welcome and Natasha gently places Becca on the floor.

He thinks that’s the end of it as he walks her to the door but he sees her square her shoulders and knows she’s about to cut the act: “No one wants you to leave, Steve.” She lets him see how upset she is, she thinks this is her fault.

“Tasha,” his voice breaks and he has to take a moment. “I’m not mad at you. He deserves – you  _both_ deserve to be happy. I –” he thought he had cried all the tears he was going to cry back in the earlier months but even as he berates himself, his throat catches and tears well up in his eyes. “Just… take care of him. Please.”

Steve thinks he sees the hint of tears in her eyes too. She surprises him and darts in to give him a deceptively tight hug.

They don’t exchange good byes.

-       - -

Becca is in hog heaven with all the space and tires herself out in the first two hours.

Steve gets all of his worldly possessions unpacked into the converted barn house before she's even done with her nap.

After so many years in the city, the space and quiet is almost deafening in a way that noise never manages.

Steve puts Sinatra on the record player and makes a cup of tea, watching the sunset out of his new kitchen windows. 

Well, at least he’s out of Brooklyn.

-       - -

Instruments are incredibly easy to learn when you have a serum that enhances your memorization and coordination. The guitar is his favorite but only because Becca will warble along.

-       - - 

Seven years later he has a handle on himself for the most part.

He avoids men with brown hair and blue eyes and seeing one in the super market can ruin his day. 

He still wakes up so sad sometimes he can’t get out of bed.

Becca hasn’t grown much in size but she’s better at parsing his moods and will lie in bed with him on these days.

He hasn’t thought about  _him_  by name or face in so long that he almost forgets why it hurts so much.

Clint came to visit and the glint in his eye when he saw all the land was amusing.

Sam’s hay fever made his visits hell but his dog, Bandit, loved it.  Steve hadn’t had time to make it for Sam’s wedding and once Melanie fell pregnant, his visits dwindled but he wrote once a week, regular as clockwork, no matter how infrequently Steve answered him.

-       - -

He’s on the ladder to rescue a cat from the roof. Becca had been barking up a storm all morning and he ignored for her hours because she’s going batty in her old age. When he finally figured out what she was going on about, he had a good laugh and gave her a treat. He stretches forward to grab the cat and hears Becca's warning bark just as he realizes the ladder has somehow displaced and he’s falling backwards. 

The picket fence coming towards his face is the last thing he sees. 

Once they sew his head back on, it takes two days but he wakes up.  He gives the coroner quite a fright but manages to explain the situation.

He knew he was  _almost_  impossible to kill.  He didn’t think he was actually immortal. 

He cries all night.

-       - -

Steve is on his fifth dog.  He’s gotten tired of naming them and they still love him the same.

The year is 2080.

All his friends are dead.  Except Thor, who is Allfather now and doesn’t have a lot of free time anymore.  He remembers Steve about once every five or six years.

Tony died in 2030 in a skiing accident in Colorado, of all the things.  Pepper didn’t have a service even though Steve spoke to her and offered to break his solitude to come help her.  She demurred.

After Tony was interred, Pepper closed Stark Industries for good and retired on some beach in Bali.  She kept in touch and passed away of old age in 2051. Steve arranged the funeral himself. He didn’t know a living soul there. 

Bruce might be alive, is probably alive, but no one knows where he is.  There hasn’t been a Hulk sighting since 2045 and a Banner sighting in even longer than that. Steve is sure that Tony’s death hit him hard.

Sam passed away peacefully in his sleep in 2044 survived by his Melanie, his son, daughter and three grandchildren. Steve flew into DC and watched the funeral from a distance.  None of Sam’s family had ever met him and he didn’t want to deal with the introductions. It was a nice service. He left flowers on the grave after everyone had left.  

Dog was excited to see him when he returned.

He learned that Natasha had died sometime in 2074 about a year or so after the fact via an archived Internet article. He spent the day in a haze wallowing in several gut-wrenching feelings he deliberately doesn’t identify.

Cliff only made it to 2022 and went down in a blaze of glory.  His was the last funeral Captain America attended. 

Steve misses them, a lot, but he’s glad they lived their lives. 

Sometimes he thinks he’s happy now. 

-       - -

When the weather breaks clear through in the mornings he likes to take Dog and go out to paint fresh landscapes. He’s in the yard struggling with the easel, which had been easy to carry just a second ago, when Dog goes bat shit for no reason. 

“Shuddup, Dog.”  Dog complies but keeps growling under his breath.  Steve rolls his eyes and figures rabbit or some other small game his serum ears have learned to tune out ages ago.  They trudge out once he beats the easel into submission. 

-       - - 

He’s extremely satisfied with how much work he got done and expects he will be able to deliver this batch of paintings on time.

Dog takes off at a run as they come around the bend of the hill barking like mad and Steve grunts after him. This Dog is not as smart as the last but he’s friendly enough.  None of the Dogs have been as smart as Becca or even her successor, Pip.

So color him surprised when he gets to the front yard, still struggling with the damnable easel and sees a strange man standing in his yard trying to keep Dog from jumping up on his chest and slobbering on his face. Steve snorts because this Dog is a Mastiff and he wishes the stranger the best of luck.  He whistles to call the dumb beast off and the stranger looks up at him.

“Heya pal, you lost or somethin’?” Now that no one alive would recognize him, slipping back into his native Brooklyn accent has been one of his smaller pleasures. 

“Stevie?”

Steve looks up from patting Dog’s head in shock when he hears that voice.

He looks almost exactly the same as the last time Steve saw him in 2015.  His hair is a bit shorter and there’s some gray around his temples, but it still clouds out around his face and his prosthetic arm is matte black now instead of metallic, but it is definitely him: “Buc– uh, James. Wow, hi. Oh. Ok. Hi.” Steve recognizes he is babbling and shuts his mouth.

“Either’s fine now, really.” The corners of James’ mouth quirk up slightly and Steve has to look down at his feet.

-       - -

Steve stares at his tea so he doesn’t have to make eye contact.  He hasn’t drunk any of his tea because with the state his stomach is in he has no idea what will happen: “I was sorry to hear about Natasha. Did you two have any children?”

James’ shoulders hunch and his eyes start to look a little lost and Dog rubs against him in an attempt to comfort.

“No, we couldn’t. We were happy just the two of us. We had a good life together. It was tough watching her get old – it’s my only regret. That I either, well… It’s for the best. I still miss her but it’s been six years already.”  James’ smile stops looking so melancholy. “She told me, ‘as soon as I’m buried, you go to see Rogers, he’s been waiting for you’.”

Steve feels like he might cry again.

Trust Natasha to know exactly what he was up to 65 years before he did.

He still regrets not tracking her down.

Now that he’s accepted and calmed the stranger and gotten back to the familiar, Dog has lost interest and wandered away to his bed.

“So you’re an animal guy now, huh?” 

Steve smiles wanly.

“Well, they fill the space and it’s less like talking to yourself if there’s another living mammal in the room. Even if they can’t talk back, it makes me feel better, ya know?”

They share a chuckle at his expense and Steve feels a marginal portion of the tension in his shoulders ease. “You always were outta your tree, Stevie,” and just like that his spine has straightened again and his tongue feels too big for his mouth.  “Tony used to call me all sorts of inventive names over the stunts I would pull.” Steve gives a small grin and it feels rusty and antique but James returns it so he figures he conveyed the general idea.

“Nah, I meant back in our day.” 

There’s nothing but silence.

Dog lifts his head and eyes Steve whose heartbeat has just gone all erratic.  Dog whines and pads over to butt his head against Steve’s side.  His breathing jumpstarts and he exhales: “Do you – I mean, are you saying –” Steve’s voice breaks and his eyes fill with tears. He curses himself and wipes them away angrily with the hand not clutching Dog’s neck scruff.

His heart might punch its way out of his chest.

There’s no doubt that James can hear it. 

He clears his throat and when Steve looks up he’s shocked to see tears in James’ eyes too.

“I remember pretty much most of my life now.” James huffs a humorless laugh at that statement. “It didn’t come back altogether. I had a fancy S.H.I.E.L.D. MRI around 2030 and it was all still really patchy then, I didn’t remember anything before 1970 or so. It was all the Red Room and murders and Tali and Tony’s dad…” He keeps his eyes on his mug which his metal hand spins idly in a circle: “They said since they weren’t sure which bastard serum strain I had, my memory might never get better. Or it might stay the same and then come back all at once one day, or just keep trickling in for the rest of my life and just wished me the best of luck.”

Steve gets up to put the kettle on again to give him a break.  He understands that speaking about things that are painful never gets any easier.

When he returns with a new bag and water, James restarts: “I really didn’t remember anything before 1970 until maybe a decade ago. It all started to sort of trickle, then stream in, and then I woke up in 2077 and could tell you everything I ought to know up until around my third birthday, which is when scientist say most people have their first concrete memory anyway.” He breaks off to meet Steve’s eyes and grin a bit sad around the corners, “Remember how easy my school work went? Turns out I’m also awesome at researching something I find relevant.” He taps his flesh index finger to his temple to indicate his point.

Steve just hands James his new cuppa. James smiles at him in thanks briefly and doesn’t break eye contact for several more seconds: “And  _you_ , Stevie. I remembered you. I woke up crying the first night I had a memory of you. I thought you were dead, not in the war or nothin’. I thought you had died of scarlet fever, Steve. I thought we were fifteen.”

Steve’s eyes bug in shock, mainly because he had somehow forgotten how often he would get sick in their youth. He was born one hundred sixty two years ago, so he has a slight excuse.  However, it was terrible that Bucky had had to relive all of that worry and terror without context and in pieces.  It must have seemed like he died several times over.

Bucky nods at his expression; “Yeah, Tali tried to rock me back to sleep and kept saying, ‘he’s alive, remember?’ and I still couldn’t sleep. We stayed up all night, her telling me stories about the shit the two of you used to get into.”

Dog whines and shuffles in between Steve and Bucky until he can rest his flank against Bucky’s thigh and it does manage to make a small smile appear on his face.  “Smart dog, what’s its name?”  Steve laughs out loud with another human being for the first time in maybe a decade. “Dog.” It makes James laugh again. “After the first two, I dunno.” Steve can actually feel himself blush and he sits in wonderment for a moment.  He hasn’t felt this alive since, well.  James makes a thoughtful noise: “What number dog is this?” Steve holds up his hand with his fingers spread and James quirks an eyebrow and genuinely smirks at him: “Shit. Wear’n’tear’s rough out here on the prarie, huh, hoss?” and it’s so  _Bucky_  that Steve wants to burst into laughter but starts to cry in its place.

There is an explosion of activity never before seen in his kitchen:

Dog jumps up at once, places his forepaws on Steve’s chest and begins to lick his face vigorously.

BuckyJames leans forward and tries to muscle Dog out of the way.

BuckyJames succeeds and grabs hold of Steve’s face murmuring: “Oh no, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, Stevie,” while beginning to leak tears himself.

Dog starts baying like they’re under attack and both Steve and Bucky stop what they’re doing to clap their hands over their ears as Steve blindly bellows “SHUDDUP, DOG!”

There’s silence.

Steve catches Bucky’s eye and they instantly burst into laughter.

Steve snickers first.

Bucky stifles a giggle.

Dog sneezes and it’s over. 

They laugh for several minutes and afterwards Bucky is leaning comfortably against Steve’s shoulder and they are both hunched forward elbows on the table.

Steve is just about to ask if Bucky wants to come take a walk into town when he sees the brunet trying to hide a yawn by turning his head slightly to the left and down.

“Did you just get in?”

Montana is a decisive destination and that’s why he picked it so long ago.  Back then when he had been worried about Captain America fanatics coming out of the woodwork and trying to track him down.

If Bucky had travelled in from Europe he could have been up for at least twenty hours by now and that’s the shortest likely possibility: “I could maybe take a kip.” Bucky drops his gaze sheepishly and might blush a bit.  Steve laughs and pushes his shoulder into Bucky’s playfully.  He never used to like showing vulnerability around Steve before either. It’s funny how much some things never manage to change even after what has felt like eons of solitude.

Steve stands and heads for the hallway to collect sheets for the guest bed.  Bucky follows Steve to the spare bedroom, neither of them saying a word. They make the bed together as if the last time they did it was yesterday instead of almost a century and a half ago.

“Say, didn’t we used to share a bed, way back in the day?” Steve’s shoulders stiffen and he doesn’t know what to say. “No sex. I mean, no – shit, Stevie.” He sees that Steve has completely frozen. 

Steve’s hallucinating until he realizes he’s not and Bucky is staring at him in worry: “Did I fuck up? Do you not, I mean, I remember… there was pining. I –”.  Steve hasn’t replied yet and Bucky is genuinely beginning to get flustered.

Steve’s waited so long.  

He doesn’t want to talk about this right now. Now just after Bucky’s come back. 

He wills himself to be calm and remind himself he’s old enough to be everyone alive’s great-great-great-great grandfather and that he can handle a conversation about his unrequited feelings: “How did you know?” 

Bucky blinks at him: “How did I know that I spent our whole lives up until 1943 in love with you?” He meets Steve’s shocked gaze and looks puzzled, “What do  _you_  mean, Stevie?”

Steve blinks, squints and blinks again. He closes his eyes and opens them. “No. _I_  was in love with _you_.”

Bucky reaches forward lightening quick with his metal arm and socks Steve on the shoulder, hopefully harder than he meant to: “Does this mean we could have been having an illicit affair all through the 30’s?”

Steve blushes and nods and stands there staring at Bucky, at a loss for what comes now.

Bucky rolls his eyes mightily: “Holy shit, you stupid punk, c’mere.” And he pulls Steve in with his metal arm and cups his jaw with his right hand and Steve has a moment of clarity of watching him pull almost the same exact move on Natasha a lifetime ago.

And then he’s not thinking anything at all. 

Bucky Barnes kisses Steve Rogers for the first time on May 14th, 2080 and Steve feels like he’s woken up for the first time in his life.

Bucky’s plush lips cover his and Steve moans into the kiss.  Bucky takes advantage of his open mouth to tentatively push into Steve’s mouth with his tongue. Steve moans again and meets him, opening up into the kiss.  Bucky squeezes Steve tighter as he slides his right hand to cradle the back of Steve’s head, angling him where he wants him so he can thoroughly stake his claim on Steve.

They break the kiss panting.

Steve is wide-eyed and dazed. He brings his fingers up to touch his lips gently, just to make sure it really happened.

Bucky eyes him sheepishly and starts laughing: “D’you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Steve grins and shakes his head. Bucky chuckles, then frowns and tries to chuckle through it: “Funny that. It turns out I’m actually asking because I’ve lost track of the bits I remembered and how long I remembered them, I think?” 

Steve pulls Bucky into a hug and holds him while he shakes.

“I’ve been tortured, broken, brainwashed, forced to kill, missing my friend, my wife’s dead, it’s fucking 2080, we still don’t have flying cars and you have a fifth dog named  _Dog,_ what the ever _-loving-fuck_.”

For a minute he can’t tell if Buck is laughing or crying.

Really it doesn’t matter because either way he’s hysterical.

Steve leads him over to the bed and gently manhandles him into being the little spoon. He wraps Bucky in his arms and holds him close. Bucky hiccups in relief, Steve isn’t sure when the laughter turned to sobs but he holds on either way and whispers reassurances into Bucky’s ear: “I’ve got you, Bucky. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be fine. I’m right here, until the end of the line, Buck. It’s okay.” 

Dog appears as if by magic and Steve makes a note that Dog deserves a special treat for helping Bucky out so much on his first day home.  Bucky huffs out a gentle laugh when Dog tucks right up in front of him, sandwiching him and ending up with Bucky laughing into a neck full of rubbery Mastiff scruff as he wraps his left arm around Dog’s body, snuggling in.

Steve pulls a hand free to run it through Bucky’s hair, something that has always relaxed him.  Bucky purrs in contentment, his consternation forgotten for the moment: “’S’good to be home, Stevie.”

And Steve hums in agreement and leans over to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. 

Steve has all the time in the world and no one else he’d rather spend it with.

_Finally._

**Author's Note:**

> i have never written steve or bucky before. this is exactly as it says on the tin. i heard about buckynat and spent two days near tears. i wrote this to rid myself of the feels and hopefully it's not utter shite. i literally banged it out in one sitting and two glasses of wine. if there are any errors, please send a message. i apologize for the quirky writing style, but i was trying something out. anyways, please don't hate it, or me. ta, duckies. <33


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